


a broken clock is right twice a day

by godtrash



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alcohol, Depression, Future Verse, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, chitose being unknowable, except theyve already met but you know, implied unrequited chitose/tachibana, meet cute (sort of), miyuki cameo cause i love her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 12:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16264685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtrash/pseuds/godtrash
Summary: Echizen runs into an old not-quite-friend, and then runs into him a second time, and thinks that this is definitely not fate.





	a broken clock is right twice a day

**Author's Note:**

> yet another old fic I dragged from the depths and let see the light of day again. I got a request to write chitose/ryoma way back when on ye olde tumblr and took it up as a challenge since I'd never even seen the ship and long story short, got invested and had to give them something of an end. i know it's very niche and strange but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless. long live whatever the ship name is for these two

He was sure he’d had the right room. Number 28, at the end of the hall. But when he rapped twice on the hotel room door the person who opened it wasn’t his mildly inebriated father, but a different kind of drunk entirely.

And one who looked vaguely familiar to boot. He squinted at the marvelously tall figure who swayed in the doorway. A potent waft of booze and what might have been vanilla incense engulfed him, and the unlikely pair stood facing each other in silence for an obscenely long moment.

Finally, a huge grin split the not quite stranger’s face. 

“Ah, the American!”

Echizen didn’t bother to correct him. It had been a long time since he’d heard an accent like that one, here of all places. The string-bean like man gave a dramatic gesture inside.

“Come in." 

He was supposed to meet his father. But inside it was warmer, there were voices, a girl with a shrewd face and pigtails peering around the big guy’s side. He remembered her from somewhere, or something. They were having a party inside, although it looked like the tail end at this hour. There was a blond guy sprawled out shirtless, asleep on the couch. Echizen scrunched up his nose.

"Wanna drink?”

He didn’t say anything but the cheap beer was pushed into his hands anyway. He figured he’d stand a while, pretend to sip, indulge this guy who obviously remembered him better than he had. He stood and the kitchen as the girl talked in sharp tones to the tall guy, her eyes gleaming and sober.

“How’s thief-bro?” She said suddenly to Echizen, turning her dark eyes on him. He was at a loss. “Uh, Tezuka-san.” She clarified, eyes twinkling. 

“He’s fine.” He said, numbly recalling who this girl was. And that made him her brother. He eyed him up and down again, wondering how he’d forgotten. It wasn’t so strange. He’d known a lot of tennis players, significantly more after going pro and then retiring three years in. He’d never played the guy.

Half an hour later, he wondered what it might be like to play him, and tried to remember something, anything about his tennis, but only could focus on the fact that he pissed him off, with his wild hair and the way he nearly spilled his beer every third word. His voice was a constant drawl, humming next to him as they sat on the musty old couch. Echizen took another full-hearted swig, wondering why’d he come here. His father had probably passed out spending his son’s credit on seedy channels on the hotel TV but that didn’t equal a reason to stay. 

He was getting up to go, the big guy giving him the lightest tap at the arm and he fell back. 

“You don’t need to.” He was mumbling, eyes down. “Where do you have to be?”

Echizen shrugged, listening to the girl rattle around in the kitchen, and the soft snores from the mysterious blond who had migrated to the floor. They were alone in the room, for the most part, and might as well have been alone in the world.

“My best friend’s getting married.” are the next and last things he says at that time, because they end up kissing right then and there.

Echizen wants to believe he’s just not himself that day because he feels like maybe he started it, and that’s just weird. If he ever thinks back to it he knows that it was a mistake, but it might have been the right thing to do at the time. The taste is all alcohol, but it’s not unpleasant, and after they pull away the big guy huffs a weak little breath and smiles. After that his sister comes back in with food, and they go on like it’s the same. He leaves a while after that, because he’s tired, and nothing happens.

Afterwards, his only regret is not bothering to remember his name.

-

Their meeting again was not fated, it was an occurrence of pure chance. It had been months since the apartment and the warm breath on his face, and he had all but put the incident out of mind entirely. It wasn’t like he had a lot of people to kiss, or he was particularly wild or anything of the sort. He had just filed it away as being unimportant to his overall growth, like so many other things that weren’t tennis as So he forgot, until the memory was quite literally dropped into his lap as he sat waiting for a plane.

Wasn’t that just the best part of it all? He was leaving, going back to the states. Abandoning Japan for the time being, and all the old dredged up memories that still made his arm ache. His old man had scoffed at him, and waved him out the front door with a dismissive look. He’ll come back, he always does. He’d assured his mother, who was worried for him. And why shouldn’t she be? He was the short time pro, the ultimate quitter. The kid whose only purpose had been tennis, but gave it up because it wasn’t fun anymore. The only thing that kept him from never picking up a racquet again was the simple fact that there wasn’t’ really anything else for him. What was he good, made for, if not tennis? While the others had other plans, bigger and brilliant things, he was now adrift. He thought of his peers and all that they were - police officer, doctor, actor, teacher and the ones that just had desk jobs. They all seemed content, he thought. Even Akutu, who claimed to hate tennis and just about everything else. Why was he the only one who was lost?

Now, looking at the lanky man who had slumped sideways asleep into his chair it dawned on him that that might no longer be the case.

“Hey, get up.” He mumbled, pushing at his shoulder. The guy made a unidentifiable sound, drooling a little. His hair was very soft, mussed and poking out from under a sloppy knit cap. “I said get up.” He pushed him again, with more force. Blearily, the huge man sat up sand blinked at him. Both of their eyes were brown, he realized.

The guy didn’t remember his name, it seemed, because after a oddly tense moment he said “We meet again, my American friend.”

“I am not an american.” Echizen says sourly. pulling his cap down to cover his eyes. “I’m going to America. There’s a subtle difference there.”

“Is there?” The guy grinned. “It’s doesn’t matter. I’m going home, and so are you. Or did you not live in America?”

“i was born in Japan.” Echizen says, as if that settles the whole matter. Which it does, for a moment until the tall guy gets the idea to keep bugging him.

“What will you do in America? Play tennis, I guess?”

Echizen shrugs.

“Do you play, still?”

The former Shitenhouji player laughs. “I would say I do, but really once every couple of months isn’t anything to brag about. You’d say I’m rusted.”

“Rusty.” Echizen corrects.

“Right. What I said. Hey, you wanna play sometime? I don’t think you and I ever played.” Echizen pauses, trying to remember Nationals, which seems like an entire lifetime ago.

“If you’re as rusty as you say you are, I don’t know that it’d be much of a challenge.’

"Humble as ever, I see. That’s what I like to see from the rookie. Well, it’s probably true anyway.” Echizen slumps back in his seat, deciding then and there not to mention the whole pro thing. He decides not to mention the kiss thing either, though he doubts the guy remembers it, being drunk as he was then.

“Hey, if you won’t play tennis we could at least get lunch. How long before your flight?”

“An hour, at least. But it will probably run late,” He replies, throat tightening.

“Well. Then you wouldn’t object to me treating ya, would you? You can call it a matter of obligation. ”

“Obligation? For what?” Echizen asks, unable to remember any time when he’d done the guy any favors.

“Well, you were good with kin-chan make back in the day, as I recall. Played with him in New York and everything . He always talked so much about you. It was cute.” there’s a fond smile on his face, like the one Eiji -senpai or one of the others has on them when they look at him.

“Well. and the time at my apartment. You cheered me up, ya know, without even knowing it.”

Echizen wants to die.

He knows his face is red, and he stares at the floor, not daring to meet the big guy’s eyes. He laughs loudly, making a few of the surrounding people stare.

“S’ no big thing. You don’t need to be weird about it. But I figured, it’d be good not to pretend it never happened. I think maybe the weirdest part of it all was that I didn’t remember your name. I know now, though, But I saw.”

He pulls a tennis magazine out of his carry on, pointing to the face of the boy next to him tucked in the glossy pages therein. “echizen. I knew it sounded familiar.” He goes on smiling and Echizen finally looks at him. “You're Chitose.” He says solemnly, remembering the photo in Tezuka’s living room. The girl, the curly-haired man, and Tachibana right beside them. The best friend who got married. Echizen shrugs.

“So , lunch?”

“Why not?”

-

Lunch is fine. Going back to that guy's place after is fine. The plane tickets burning a hole in the bottom of his bag are fine. He never asked why he was at the airport. Going home. he said. Or something like it. He doesn't look around the near empty apartment, too clean and white and perfect. 

"Technically my lease was up last week and I'm supposed to be outta here." Beanpole grins as he offers him a water, which he declines. He shrugs.

"'s'allve got now. Nothing waiting back in Osaka, that's for sure."

Echizen is distracted with the view out the front, despite the crampedness of the space it looks like it has a decent view of the Tokyo skyline. Chitose follows his gaze and grinning that all-knowing grin of his pushes open the sliding doors and invites his new (old?) friend (is that what they are?) onto the balcony.

The fading summer breeze is nice, the smell of something ending and a new beginning, hints of crisp fall fluttering in the air as the first of the leaves take flight. They rest their arms on the ledge, Chitose drinking from his water bottle and Echizen content to sit and stew in contemplative silence.

"You got anyone waiting for you back in America, kid?"

He frowns at being called kid, their age difference (what, two years, three maybe) is hardly enough to warrant all that but he lets it slide anyway. 

"Not really." He says, boredly. Sure, his family, and his brother that finally wants to spend time after all these years (why now, anyway, must just be pity, poor baby Ryoma can't play anymore, what are we to do with him - ) but he knows what the big guy is getting at. Seems like nobody wanted to follow him to America after all, and that was just fine by him. They all had their own lives to lead, and he was proud of them in his own way.

The cryptid of a man is edging ever closer, and suddenly he's in Echizen's face like that and there's nothing he really thinks of doing about it. He leans in with eyes starting to slide closed and so he goes along. It's not like he has anything better to do. 

The kiss is quick and not very deep, as simple as a kiss you could get from distant lovers saying goodbye and not really meaning it. He thinks of the plane taking off right this very moment, and how his mother will be disappointed at him wasting money again.

"You know," Chitose goes, and his breath is so very warm on Echizen's face, but not unpleasant enough where he wants to pull away, "We could go anywhere we wanted. Anywhere our little hearts desired."

"And what does your little heart desire?" murmurs Echizen, not out of any keen desire to know but just because that's the way this conversation has been heading. 

"Somewhere cold. Somewhere high, and far away."

He doesn't know what he's saying, what he's talking about at all, there's liquor on his breath and he's probably been at the bar before heading to catch his flight. For some reason there's no one else on Earth whose judgement Echizen would rather trust.

"That sounds doable." They half lean against each other, look at the setting sign. The guy presses a kiss to the corner of his lips like a promise, and Echizen pushes him away after a second. Better to let all that out now than have it blow up later.

"I'm not really interested, in, uh, I don't know to say it." He has the good grace to be embarrassed at his lack of social skills, at least. 

"A relationship?" Chitose says wryly.

"No, it's not... you're really cool, and all, I just. Don't. Do that. Usually." He pauses.  
"What, go on dates?"

"No, I mean well yeah, I just. I don't. I'm not into." He flaps his hand vaguely at the two of them in hopes he gets his point across, face turning a little pink.

"Oh, like sex stuff?" 

He blanches a little at the word, but Chitose huffs a laugh.

"Oh dude, no, you're good, I mean, me either, I mean, like sometimes, you know? But mostly. Yeah." He laughs and looks relieved.

"Yeah." Echizen says. "Me too. As far as sometimes goes, I mean." He tries to get a hold of whatever he's expressions doing, it's betraying the cool serious rookie image he's worked so hard to build.

"Just wanted you to know, in case you had, like expectations or whatever." He rubbed the back of his capless head awkwardly. "Sorry if I led you on or whatever."

Chitose shakes his head. 

"No. No. It's totally cool, I wasn't expecting... Well, we don't really know each, do we? Kiss thing aside."

"You keep bringing that up." The shorter of the two says, face stony.

"It was pretty significant." Chitose smiles. "You want some weed?"

Echizen tries hard not to roll his eyes.

Some time later, he is on his back on a ratty old couch, one of the few pieces of furniture left in this unholy space. Clouds of smoke drift over his head as he inhales deep. Chitose seemed surprised that he had done this before. 

"I am an American, after all." Is all he says on the matter. 

Even later, with the barest hint of light coming through the shades, he thinks he really might just go off somewhere and get lost with this almost stranger. It's a better idea than any he's had in a long time. He rolls over, faces Chitose. He's not dozing as expecting, but looking into the middle distance with an inscrutable expression. 

"Hey," Echizen mutters. Those enormous brown eyes flicker his way. 

"Are we really gonna go?"

"Go where?" He says with that polite idiocy he is famous for. He makes it charming, somehow.

"Anywhere. I don't care. Not here."

"Awfully romantic, isn't it?" Chitose sounds like he's barely suppressing a laugh. 

"Shut up." He rolls over so he doesn't have to see his stupid face anymore. "It was your idea."

“That’s true.” There’s a flash of flame in the dark, and silence takes over again.

Chitose sits up, peering down at him. From this angle the ridiculous height difference is even more pronounced. Echizen did grow in the years between high school and now, but he’s not nothing on this knobbly monster of a guy. Too tall, too skinny. 

Outside a soft rain begins to fall.

“You wanna play?”

Chitose says abruptly.

“Play what?” Echizen says through the lump in his throat. He already knows the answer.

“Come on.” He swoops to his feet his some great migratory bird, and Echizen doesn’t have time to protest or insist he doesn’t have his racquet. One is thrown at him as they leave through the back door, and he doesn’t ask where it came from or why he stills has it so close when he apparently doesn’t play anymore either.

Out in the soft cool of encroaching autumn, he feels like himself again. Like it’s the end of the season, and Seigaku has won again and they’re packing it in for another long rest. Except he’s never rested in his life, always practicing, always moving. The staccato rhythm of rubber on plastic might as well be a lullaby. It’s never been like this, just simple movements with no expectations of victory or surpassing anyone. The street court is around the block, and he doesn’t care that it’s getting to be too late, that the streetlights have come on, that the ground is slick and wet and dangerous and Coach would yell at him if she could see him now.

There are no winners or losers here, just a finite end at some unspecified point where they both collapse back to back on the courts, Chitose having the gall to smoke again, even here. The rain sluices into his eyes and his wipes his forehead with his hat. 

“That was nice.” Chitose murmurs, somewhere to the left of his ear. He presses his wet and slick mouth to Echizen’s neck, pressing against the pulse point, breathing in his scent. He leans in and lets it happen, content like a satisfied fat cat for the first time in a long time. 

“Where to then, my American friend?”

He starts at the words, pressing thickly between kisses and bites. He throws his arms around the man before him, thinking when did boy become man and when did dream become reality become nothing. He was nothing, not a prince of anything, and it felt wonderful.

“How about Germany?”


End file.
